Summertime in the city, amongst all the other general mayhem my cousins, friends, and myself indulged in, we would sometimes go to the local swimming pool. I think it was the YMCA or something like that. (Actually, now that I think, I've been to a lot of different swimming pools. So just forget that part. It doesn't matter where it was.)

Anyway this one time, me a few others are going to the swimming pool, and as we're going in, you know, we're sort of sorted into the girls' locker room and the boys'. So, naturally, I'm going to go into the boys' locker room.

Except nu-uh, says the person guarding the boy's door. Don't know what kind of crap you kids are trying to pull, but you go into the girl's locker room.

Imagine my childhood bewilderment. Um. Really?

No, lady, seriously -- I'm a boy.

I think this situation was only resolved finally when a lifeguard who recognized us vouched for me. Imagine my childhood indignity. "You're so certain I'm the opposite sex that you won't belive me? I need someone else to assure you about that?"

Granted, at that age, there usually wasn't much besides hair style and clothing to distinguish the boys from the girls. But as I said: dressed like a boy, short hair.

No, what -- this one guard happens to encounter one tom boy who's so confident that she's gonna go into the boy's locker room to change? Or maybe she figured I just wanted to go in to torment the boys, and the boys with me were meant to be my disguise.

Or maybe she was just a fuckwit.

It's probably that one, right?